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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460084">The Meaning of War</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReduxCath/pseuds/ReduxCath'>ReduxCath</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragalia Lost (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bloody, Gen, He's a very broken dragon, Leonidas's alchemical enhancements are explored, Mars struggles to understand his own meaning, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, depictions of war, drug symbolism, hope at the end, lobotomy mention</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:47:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReduxCath/pseuds/ReduxCath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What does it mean to be strong? To be 'the strongest'? Is it self-satisfaction? Is it the praise of others? Is it the power to tear the land apart? Is it the struggle that forms your strength? Or is it simply holding the title? And who approves of your strength? Is it you? Is it others? Is it God?</p><p>When you become 'the strongest', what is there left?</p><p>Of your goals?</p><p>Of you?</p><p>Choices are not meant to be taken lightly</p><p>(Wrote this because I got Gala Mars and his story hit something in me. This story does get dark, as the tags should show.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brunhilda | Mym/Euden, Brunhilda | Mym/Mars (Dragalia Lost), Hinted, Leonidas/Mars (Dragalia Lost), One Sided - Relationship, onesided - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Meaning of War</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>               Mars looked up at the dragon before him. He had journeyed down to this volcano on the basis of a rumor. A rumor’s rumor, a hint of a hint spurred on the wind—that the great Flamewyrm made her den here. The Lady who ruled over his element, who danced with fire mana and stoked the passions in both the hearts of man and dragon. Finding the Lords was not something to be done through conventional means. It required tenacity, endurance, and being finely attuned with their element. He had spent almost an entire century building himself up, not only to recognize the pulse of Fire, but to dress his body with it as best he could.</p><p>               He had put himself in her metaphorical heart, and only then was he able to follow the pulse of mana to its complicated, shifting origin point.</p><p>               “Ah…” She opened her mouth. She had surely known that he’d be arriving—that <em>someone</em> would be arriving. Calmly closing her jaw, the Flamewyrm stretched out a claw and let the burning lava flow delicately on her arm and down her back. Mars traced the movement of the liquid, of Wind made Flame, of Wind <em>subjugated </em>into Flame, and felt his scales rise slightly. She was every bit as regal as he’d expected. “You are the one who’s been seeking me.”</p><p>               “I come to pit myself against you.” He said, as confident as he was able, like he had practiced all those times before. It comes out well. But that is only the smallest hurdle overcome. “I shall wait until you finish your bath.”</p><p>               He expected her to talk to him. To ask him about himself, about his journey. To offer him her name, so that he might offer her his.</p><p>               She did not.</p><p>               She simply carried on, trading her body’s worked and chewed mana with the lava’s raw and unprocessed mana. Mars felt the mutually-beneficial exchange, even from where he stood patiently, and part of him wished to dip the tips of his claw into the lava to partake—</p><p>               She was staring at him, lava running down from the sides of her neck, across her torso. “Will you not wash?”</p><p>               Mars shook his head. “My fire comes from within. I command a heat greater than anything the Great Earth can provide.”</p><p>               A curious expression crossed her face. “Then why are you here?”</p><p>               “Why do humans show their parents the fruits of their labor?” He asked her in return. “I seek for you to acknowledge my power.”</p><p>               Mars was ready for many things, and he expected a negative response. After all, he had called himself greater than the Whole Earth to the face of one of its protectors. He had practiced his response to allegations of hubris, to accusations of blasphemy, to slurs upon his honor…</p><p>               …But the Flamewyrm only laughed.</p><p>               It was a sound as sharp and as crystalline as sapphire stalagmites cutting water in a river, and he was taken aback. “You want a being higher than yourself to acknowledge your power, so that your power can be called legitimate?” Mars hurried to nod. She, she had said it better than any way he had— “So, am I your mother? Are you my son?”</p><p>               Mars had not anticipated…this question.</p><p>               Her smile turned coy, turned a feeling he could not place. “You speak nice words, but you’re not a good liar. You don’t care about ‘recognition’ or ‘acknowledgment’.” The Flamewyrm strode towards him, the lava running down her body, the mana calm as a lake. “You simply wish to overthrow me.”</p><p>               Mars stared at her for a moment before chuckling. “I was afraid if I said such a thing outright, Our Lord would have smit me on the spot.”</p><p>               “Oh, but that would be quite a pity. I do love it when young bucks like you appear before me.” For a single, insane instance, Mars’s thoughts began to flow in a direction very different from battle—</p><p>               A tremor through his frame, a lack of mana in his lungs, and a dizzying world. Mars coughed as he pried himself from a wall in the volcano, and struggled to maintain himself as the mana around him began to spike erratically.</p><p>               The Flamewyrm now flew above, glowing with power, the very picture of fire as her heat melted the rocks that were nearest to her. “You have my attention, buck.”</p><p>               The Flamewyrm dove, closer, closer—</p><p>               But then it was Mars who was behind her. He had trained for this. He expected this kind of mana fluctuation as he grabbed her and spun down towards the depths of the volcano. He put his jaw to her ears and chuckled. “Thank you for your time, madam.” His heat began to glow as his brightest flame rose and spun itself into existence in his chest. He would make his rise to power quick and honorable…</p><p>...&lt;&gt;...</p><p>               A crack, two cracks in the cooled rock, and Mars emerged, as though hatched from a cocoon.</p><p>               Even the thought of standing up to face the monster before him made his entire body shake.</p><p>               The Flamewyrm’s volcano had exploded twice during their brawl, but she had expertly contained all the lava and forced it to spiral back inside the opening. She didn’t simply control flame and subjugate the earth. No. As she yawned a ways away and he shook from the terror of the fight, he saw the error of his ways. She was <em>one</em> with the flame—<em>one</em> with the earth. But that meant she was one with Wind too! And that could not be, surely! For—</p><p>               “Fire dominates over Wind!” Her dramatic wail echoed through the hyper-cooled walls of the dead volcano. “She was supposed to dominate over it, but she bend the earth <em>and</em> the fire! Oh, oh how?! How does she do it?! How can she do these things?! It shouldn’t be possible….”</p><p>               Then, her jaw was next to his ear this time. “…But it is, child.”</p><p>               Mars’s eye swiveled open and his pupil flexed as he met her face. She smiled. Content. Bored, but a good boredom, like the way that a beast might yawn after a rewarding hunt. “You fought well. I commend your bravery. But you are <em>far</em> from where you should have been.”</p><p>               “I’m….I’m the strongest….” But Mars could tell, he could tell that while his mouth posed the idea as a statement of fact, his eyes held it as a question instead.</p><p>               The Flamewyrm put her claw to her mouth. “Hardly! I know of a dozen dragons that could’ve lasted hours longer than what you were able to eek out. Again, you did <em>good</em>, boy—” She learned his name in battle, but she would not use it. Mars had not earned that privilege. “—but your hubris was your downfall.”</p><p>               The way she spoke to Mars, he could tell that she was weaving Words into her idle chatter. His body felt renewed, strength returned—but at the thought of retaliating, his muscles shut down. A curse? An enchantment?! Was this his punishment for— “Listen, boy, I’m making sure you can fly out of here and eat, but don’t try to fight for a few days. You’ve almost exhausted yourself.” She made a face. “I would very much like to not claim the life of an innocent today.”</p><p>               The word ‘innocent’ dug itself into his chest, like a parasite.</p><p>               Mars looked around. “Then…then the volcano…”</p><p>               “I've fed it to you, yes.” All around them, the once-blazing volcano of the Flamewyrm was but a shadow of its former self. Where there ran pure lava, now hard rock remained. Where fire licked at the stones, now there existed naught but the faintest of embers, dotted all around. The energy of this place was gone. Inside of him. Sustaining him. Without it, he knew he would not qualify to be a part of this world any longer.  The Flamewyrm shrugged, turned away while shaking her head. “It’s a slight pity. I quite liked this place. Out of the previous 10 areas I’ve made my home, this one had a good charm.” A casual shrug from her shoulders. “But oh well. <em>Change doth commeth</em>, as they say. I could use a new lodging, maybe farther south from here. Who knows? I’ll have to ask around the grapevine…”</p><p>               She carried on, almost as though Mars were no longer behind her.</p><p>               “W—Wait…” He stretched out a claw.</p><p>               A confused look on her face. She had been about to take off. “Hmm?”</p><p>               “Tell me, <em>please</em>,” He begged. He had never begged for anything in his life. “How…how can I defeat you?” His desperate eyes went wide. It felt like she was moving farther and farther away from him, that she would wink out of existence and leave him in the dark, alone. “What must I do to restore my honor?!”</p><p>               “Honor?” She looked confused. Then disapproving. It froze his heart. “Oh, how disappointing. I had thought you to be at least a salvageable experience based on pluck alone, but the way you think about the world—it’s like the perspective of a gadfly.” <em>A gadfly.</em> For a single second, Mars felt suspended in the void. “If you <em>really</em> want to do this, if taking my place and holding my body in your arms is your goal, then rise farther than what you are.”</p><p>               She spread her wings, and the last vestiges of embers on the ground were extinguished. “Become what you pretended to be. Become the strongest of all our kin! Otherwise…” She did not look at him as she flew, but somehow her words reached his ears. “…otherwise you won’t be worthy of me at all.”</p><p>               And she left him in that dead volcano.</p><p>               He stayed there for an entire day and night, unable to process.</p><p>               A strained cry wrought itself from his throat, and the humans settled nearby worried about a fiend for an entire week. But the fiend never came.</p><p>               His wings had felt too weak, so he climbed out like a lowly lizard from the volcano. Climbing up and up, sometimes slipping, out of the cave. And as he sought the light that made the interesting shadows on the wall, he replayed the memory of the battle in his mind.</p><p>               At first, he saw himself in a perfect state. Nothing that had happened could’ve been done in a better way. He had been perfect. The Flamewyrm, the beautiful and deadly goddess, had simply been insurmountable as a consequence of nature and fate. But as he rose higher, as he learned to <em>dig</em> his claws into the carbon-rich earth and use both his arms and his legs, he saw more and more mistakes. His flight path had been awkward. His command of mana left much to be desired. The way he wove spells in his head—he was sure that someone of her level was able to peer into his brain and read his formulae before he had even finished writing them. As he rose higher and higher, he noted more areas in need of improvement, more techniques in need of refinement…</p><p>               …And when he finally rose out of that cave and into the embrace of a cool spring dawn, he could do nothing but sit at the mouth of the volcano like a limp hatchling.</p><p>               <em>He had simply been extraordinarily weak.</em></p><p>He could realize that now. After climbing out of the cave, after shaking off the soot from his body and breathing in the air of the real world, he realized his vast deficiencies. The things he had seen as challenges, the Flamewyrm would describe as small fry. The things he had dubbed small fry, <em>she</em> would have refused to fight at all.</p><p>               He had believed himself to be at the top of Purgatory, when he had only barely cleared the first of its many, many levels.</p><p>               And so, he made a vow, spreading his wings to the rising sun, that he would obtain true strength. On the top of that volcano, at the exit of his cave, the young Mars made an oath to Mana that he would one day return a real man, and challenge the Flamewyrm for her seat among the Great Five.</p><p>               He flew off, determination mending his broken heart.</p><p>...&lt;&gt;...</p><p>               And he went to become a terror.</p><p>               The scent of burning human flesh, of cattle’s terror sweat, of charred iron and stone wove itself into his scales. Bit by bit, with every kingdom razed. With every noble’s house desecrated, his claws grew stronger. With every army felled, his flames grew hotter. With every crowd of humans running from his sight, his eyes grew keener, until he could send out bolts of fire over 100 yards to take out mages and their towers, never giving them a chance to call upon the meager scraps of true magic they were able to wield.</p><p>               Oh, the humans fought back against him, for they were plentiful and multiplied at insane rates. His body was, at first, ripped and stabbed by their iron. Their spells singed his wings, dizzied his eyes. He spilled enough blood over the first century to make a lake. But once he was able to fully integrate that volcano’s foreign mana into himself, once he reached his apotheosis, the humans touched him no longer. They were only able to run, run, run away from him. Stretch out their hands towards some unknowable ‘thing’ they saw in the distance as their armor melded to their flesh and their skin burned and sublimated. After that hellish first century where the human world drank of his blood, he drank of theirs for five.</p><p>               And he reaped his rewards.</p><p>               His kin came to revere him.</p><p>               “Mars! Mars, our hatchlings, they were taken away by some humans in the nearby town!” A gentle light dragon cried, tears in her eyes. Her mate curled around her, barely holding it together. The town was well fortified, and all hope seemed lost.</p><p>               He brought the hatchlings back, leaving behind a smoldering ruin in his wake. They flew to their parents, who cried tears of joy.</p><p>               “Mars!! The humans are bringing mages to daddy’s nest! He’s too weak to fight them off! They’re scary!” A few little ones chirped up at him, all different colors. Their father had been a strong dragon in his time, but he was now nearing the age where he <em>should</em> have been allowed to raise a litter in peace.</p><p>               He cooked the humans before they stepped foot into their forest. The old single father told him stories from his youth, and the little ones said the wished to be like him when they grew up. It made his chest puff out.</p><p>               “Mars!! Oh, Mars, it’s awful. They…they killed my mate! I…I couldn’t protect him….” A shadow dragon gnashed her teeth and tore at the ground. “Why…why not me instead?!”</p><p>               After embracing her, the two of them dove upon that village and enacted a glorious massacre in her late mate’s honor. He gave her the most important kill of all, and she was satisfied.  He never saw her again, but she spread word of his deeds far and wide.</p><p>               They all did.</p><p>               Mars became a hero for wyrmkind near and far. He traveled to different lands, lands previously known and unknown to him. He was known as the Blazewyrm soon enough. There was talk of him replacing the Flamewyrm, of him having already replaced her. They said good things of him and his deeds, both the violent and peaceful. Mars fights for us dragons. Mars cares for our children. Mars feeds hungry litters. Mars manages territorial disputes. All respected him. All revered him. And with every bit of praise it felt like his power grew. The stronger he grew, the more he fought, and the more he fought, the more humans he killed.</p><p>               His claws became permanently dyed with the blood of humans after many battles, getting redder bit by bit. It was a mark of honor, one he wore proudly. He spoke to little ones of the excitement of a hunt, of the glory that came with slaughtering the defilers of mana. He told stories of the first time he killed a human so many years ago. He taught young fire dragons to harness their flames, and young wind dragons to resist them. But his main activity was killing the sons of man, for they had trampled over the world and made it ugly.</p><p>               In the humans’ words…he was like a Paladyn, for the glory of his God Elysium.</p><p>               Making the world beautiful again was his mission.</p><p>               And one day, he would earn the title of Flamewyrm. He would take it from that dragon, and she would die a beautiful warrior’s death in his arms, a glorious beacon of all that fire dragons were and could be, someone he would never forget. He thought about her every day, dreamt of her, of their return, of the days they might spend together before she would decide to fight him and allow him to take what was rightfully his after centuries of preparation.</p><p>               Eventually…</p><p>               ...Eventually… he should be ready.</p><p>               He should know the true meaning of flames.</p><p>               But…</p><p>...&lt;&gt;...</p><p>               One night, as he stared down a group of humans and laughed at a brave blonde girl  who had spread her arms (as if she could <em>shield</em> them), he froze. The flames in his maw tasted wrong. Tasted <em>weak</em> and <em>plain</em>. He looked at the girl and felt all excitement for battle drain out of his body and onto the earth.             </p><p>               Even as the humans who had run behind him launched their nets and spears, even as these tore through his wings, into his back and tail—he did not move.</p><p>               But then he realized ‘it’. And a cry of despair tore itself from his jaws.</p><p>               The humans were knocked back. Many unconscious. The young girl was terrified, only standing due to petrification. He whipped around, knocking her back with a strong wind, as he reached out to the fools with the spears and the nets. He grabbed them. Tore them limb from limb. Looked desperately into their eyes as he breathed the fires of hell on their bodies…</p><p>               …But his flames did not <em>feel</em> like they came from hell.</p><p>               And he flew, panic rising in his chest until his wings stopped working from how worked up he was. He tumbled down, crashed into a lake, and in the bubbling water, he was forced to cool down and realize that <em>he no longer derived any joy from murdering humans</em>.</p><p>               As he sunk into the fertile lakebed and let water fill his lungs, this realization brought with it an unspeakable terror. Fire derives its power from passion. From hate and joy alike. He had thought that he had been overcompensating on the hate aspect, that he had been too greedy without much depth to his ambition. So he sought the joy of war. He sought to dress himself in it, to hear the cries of thankfulness from his brethren who had lost their homes to the parasites of the planet. He sought the laurels of a warrior, and for a time thought that he had reached it. The great <em>Joy</em> at the center of all flame.</p><p>               But…there was no joy in war anymore.</p><p>               There had been no real joy for a while now. He had grown so used to the praise of his fellow dragons that it now barely registered. The cries of the humans provided a little more stimulus, but even that was growing so old. He had done everything under the sun, had enjoyed so many things—but had he gone through it too quickly? He was flame, but had he burned down everything too soon? Or was he broken? Was he defective? Was something wrong with him for not being able to find joy in life? And without joy, what was life in the first place? Just like a fire without light—completely impossible, improbable.</p><p>               That little blonde girl had looked at him without fear. Only hatred. And he had been fully prepared to burn her and the people behind her, just to get it over with. He sought to get back to the dragons, hear their praises, and get it over with.</p><p>               But the war god he sought to be should never do something <em>just to get it over with</em>.</p><p>And so he despaired at the bottom of that lake for an entire week.</p><p>When he rose, the water was completely gone. Evaporated.</p><p>               When the poor and mortal are at their wits’ end, when they find themselves surrounded by trouble and cut off from safety by their enemies—here do all mortals bend knee and pray to the Heavens for assistance. Mars understood the hypocrisy behind his actions as he collected fruits for three days and nights, as he laid down a sacrifice to his Lord Elysium. He had considered himself higher than any dragon, fit to cockily challenge the great Flamewyrm herself as she <em>bathed</em>, foolish enough to refuse her <em>charitable</em> invitation, and <em>insane</em> enough to proclaim that he had, after so few years, arrived at a point of strength greater than the Great Earth itself.</p><p>               It had been <em>humbling. </em></p><p>               But afterward, he had done it all, hadn’t he?! He had fought for wyrmkind everywhere! He had sought to liberate, to enact revenge. He sought to balance joy and hate in equal measure—but even so, even so…!!</p><p>               If he did not know the answer by now, was he even fit to know it?</p><p>               The thought drove him to his knees.</p><p>               “Smite me, if I displease you so much.” The heat inside his body felt as though it was besieged by ice. His sacrifice, his offerings, it all seemed so worthless. Nothing in this material plane could ever really satisfy the Lord, could it?! “Smite me, if I am so worthless!! Rend my body, tear me apart! Just end it now!! Oh, God…” He found himself crying out to the heavens. Pounding the fruits until they were nothing but mush. “Release your humble servant from this coil. I don’t deserve to exist here…” The squirrels, the rats, the fish and the birds—even the humans deserved their place on God’s green earth more than he did.</p><p>               For a moment, silent indifference.</p><p>               Then, a soft beam of moonlight, silently cutting through the clouds, gently landed on his shoulders.</p><p>               Mars looked up and spread his arms wide, welcoming oblivion. At least, this prayer would be answered. Oh, how great Elysium is. Praise be. Praise be…</p><p>               ….</p><p>               Mars opened his eyes.</p><p>               He was not erased. And he was not dead. His claws still felt sticky with the juice of the ruined fruits.</p><p>               He was in a crystal space, flowing with mana of a purity he hadn’t been able to conceive of before. In the center of this space a ball of holy light pulsed. It lowered, lowered, and when the Lord Elysium bloomed out of the petals and stepped forward, Mars could only look at his God in awe.</p><p>               The Fear of the Lord burned in his heart brighter than any other emotion he had ever felt.</p><p><strong>               “Mars.” </strong>The way that Lord Elysium spoke his name, the way He said it—it struck at the core of Mars’s being. He was not simply referring to him using sound. No, the Lord was calling out to the deepest and most central core of his individuality. He Knew him. Better than anyone else. But of course He did. Lord Elysium knew all His children by name, by Soul. Mars shook with the indescribable  [    ]  that a creature feels addressed by their Creator. <strong>“Your anguish could dampen the hottest lava beds, and your tears could drown the sturdiest of creatures.” </strong>A gentle claw on his shoulder, and Mars was a child again in the arms of his Father. <strong>“Rest, child. All is well.”</strong></p><p>               Mars cried for an undefined amount of time.</p><p>               When that time ended, he looked up at Father. “My Lord. All I have ever sought is strength. All I seek is power. I thought I knew what it was when I faced off against Your servant the Flamewyrm, and I learned the error of my ways.”</p><p><strong>               “Indeed.” </strong>Elysium agreed, for He did not tell lies.</p><p>               “I thought that if I fought for those other than myself—for a cause greater than myself—then I would know true power.”</p><p><strong>               “And thus your brothers call you Blazewyrm.” </strong>The name covered Mars in rainbow flames, and he felt beautiful.</p><p>               But the flames sizzled out after a few moments. “And yet…” He hesitated, the memories of his failure licking and biting at the nape of his neck. “I haven’t reached it, have I?”</p><p>               In His mercy, Elysium flicked the worries away. <strong>“You have not.”</strong></p><p>               “Then…”</p><p>               When faced with an Almighty being, creatures believe that they can ask for things, for favors and for assistance. This is what they pray for. But to pray to God in His presence is a markedly different experience from praying in the confines of the world. The Beyond stretches out in the mind of the individual, and all paths are revealed. All is put forward. All is available.</p><p>               Mars felt his willpower start to crumble at the sight of raw Possibility.</p><p>               And for a moment seriously considered ‘leaving it up to God’, as it were. Asking the Lord to make him into whatever he wanted. Letting his Father choose his path for him.</p><p>               That…</p><p>               ….That was how humans thought of God.</p><p>               That was how the <em>worms</em>, in their erroneous existences, believed that God should be treated. “Make me into whatever You want”, the say, and then they proceed to do what they wanted to do in the first place. They made crimes against nature, machines that took mana and wrung it out of life and vitality, spitting it out as ‘efficiency’. “Whatever happens is the will of God” they say, as they ruin the world and justify it retroactively as ‘what God desired most of all’.</p><p>               But if Gods meant their children to simply give them their free will, then why equip it with them in the first place? Oh, all human gods are false, but this premise certainly proves it. Perhaps, Mars realized, humans cannot connect with the earth because of their ambivalence towards their own fate. Because they throw up their hands and trust whatever God watches over them will just…push them where they need to go.</p><p>               That was what Mars had been doing this whole time, wasn’t it?</p><p>               Just…swearing on empty promises.</p><p>               Then doing what he wanted, retroactively justifying it all as ‘the right path’ if it brought him success or the praise of others.</p><p>               Now he appreciated that blonde woman, and the truth she had unknowingly made him wrestle with.</p><p>               He sighed, smiling, growing in the arms of his Father.</p><p>               He would no longer simply throw his hands up, leave himself to the flow of Fate. That was not how dragons were taught to worship. He would be damned if he adopted human customs like some traitor.</p><p>               And he cackled a little, because humans <em>so yearned</em> for an experience like this. For all their technology and all their misnamed marvels, they ached to know their Maker and realize the immensity of being alive. But to have this kind of truth, one needed to worship a God that was <em>real</em> in the first place.</p><p>               And he, grown and scarred and glowing, grinned at his Father.</p><p>               <em>His</em> God was <em>very real</em>.</p><p>               “I want <em>you</em> to give me power instead, Lord.” Mars prayed in his most humble, most determined voice. “I want <em>to rise</em>.”</p><p>               Elysium looked at him, looked through his soul, and after another indefinite amount of time, nodded. <strong>“Very well.”</strong></p><p>               Mars readied himself, and flew towards his Father…</p><p>               ...&lt;&gt;...</p><p>               Mars was softly laid on the ground.</p><p>               His expression was empty.</p><p>               As was his heart.</p><p>               Lord Elysium stroked his head, his form flickering as he deposited His child back into the realm of the living. <strong><em>“…Do not lose hope. What you seek is both lost and found. Do not fear or tremble, child. I am at your side. For I am the Lord your…”</em></strong></p><p>Mars…did not hear the end of that sentence.</p><p>               He stood.</p><p>               Walked out of the dry lakebed, and flew off in a random direction.</p><p>               He slept for an entire month, his mind reorganizing itself.</p><p>               When he awoke, he saw three humans in his cave. This cave that he had found for himself. They were dressed for long treks, equipped with climbing gear. And they were confused, as though they didn’t expect to see him there where he lay.</p><p>               “Am I weak?” He croaked out.</p><p>               The humans blinked. They were not expecting to be asked a question like that.</p><p>               “…Am I…” He had fought against the Lord with everything he had. He had wrestled with God. He had put his all into every single blow. He had reached depths of magic that had previously been unknown to him. And yet…</p><p>               …Not one of his blows had been afforded the grace to lick at his Father’s broad chest.</p><p>               His father had simply played with him, as all fathers do with their sons, until he had tired himself out.</p><p>               And He had laid him back on the soft ground, a sleepy and tired babe, and left.</p><p>               The enormity of that situation had taken him this an entire month for him to realize.</p><p>               And now, as he stared at the three explorers who trembled before him, he found himself without a compass. Nothing made sense. Nothing <em>had</em> any meaning. All he saw before him was different forms of carbon, of nitrogen and oxygen. Things barely felt real. “Am I <em>weak</em>?” He asked the humans, for he had no other recourse.</p><p>               The trembling humans were mute, but one of them smashed her head on the ground, prostrating herself before him in a desperate bid. “We’re so sorry!! Please spare us!!”</p><p>               The other two adventurers did the same, and Mars looked at them. Like how a tiger might look at a bee who is struggling to get out of a pool of water.</p><p>               “…Is this how my Father saw me, back then?”</p><p>               The adventurers looked at each other in confusion.</p><p>               One of them opened his mouth to speak—</p><p>               But then they were burning piles of ash.</p><p>               Mars saw the results of his fire breath before he felt the flames licking at the edge of his jaws. He didn’t feel the heat blooming in his chest at all. A new terror gripped him. He pawed at his chest. Solid. No, no, there was a hole here. He felt a hole! Why couldn’t he plug up the hole? He scratched his chest, with greater and greater intensity, until he was beginning to inflict pain. In his frenzy, the dragon didn’t realize that he had run deeper into the cave, deeper, deeper. The pain from his claws didn’t wake him, for he still needed to find the hole that bothered him so—</p><p>               What woke him was falling down on the cave floor. It was the feeling of stalagmites and boulders breaking from his impact.</p><p>               Mars looked up. A pool of water lay in front of him, lit by luminescent algae and mushrooms that lined the sides.</p><p>               He looked down at the pool of water. And he saw himself.</p><p>               With a hole in his chest.</p><p>               A claw went to fill the hole—but it was obstructed by his own pectorals in reality.</p><p>               He took a breath of air—and he recognized the scent. Feverwater—the humans called it that. This liquid was said to bring hallucinations, and was something that needed to be scouted out so that mining operations could be conducted safely. But wyrmkind called it Liquid Mirror. The fumes, when breathed in by the worthy wyrm race, would show a wyrm the state of his heart.</p><p>               He foolishly touched the water, trying to plug up the hole in his chest that way—</p><p>               The Liquid Mirror attacked his nervous system, and Mars relived the past few hundred years all at once.</p><p>               All the pain. The anguish. The terror and shame. The feeling of finding purpose only to realize it hollow, and the wonder, the question—<em>When am I going to see you again?</em></p><p><span class="u">“She will never see you again.” </span>His reflection smiled like a demon.</p><p>The dragon went mad.</p><p>               For 2 more centuries, he flew. He ate. He burned. He hid. Mars was under the complete and utter influence of his emotions, and he knew naught but pain and fear. He burned what was ugly, he ate what looked filling (it never really was), he ran when he felt like it, and he was never hit with an arrow or a spear or a sword. He ravaged the land, and embraced the nothingness in his heart. Nothing mattered, nothing made sense, and nothing <em>had</em> to make sense any more.</p><p>               All that was real were his emotions.</p><p>               Not even his God existed for him anymore.</p><p>               Until, eventually, tired Mars happened upon a blonde man with golden hair. Just like the woman from so many years ago…</p><p>               But this was no simple townswoman.</p><p>               He rode with an entourage of soldiers, his navy suit glistening in the sunlight, adorned with war medals. All of his men were brimming with the strength of humanity, equipped with shining weapons, carrying themselves with the confidence that could only be found in those who had found a worthy Lord to serve.</p><p>               But all that seemed to melt away when Mars focused on what the man was riding.</p><p>               One of his brothers, kin of flame. But something was off. Mars froze as he observed his brother, an uneasy feeling prickling across his scales. His brother’s eyes were filled, glowing yet dull, and disgusting steel cylinders stuck out at junctures across his body. Two on his shoulder, a row on his back—and one right on the center of his head.</p><p>               For a good few seconds, the heat around Mars dissipated entirely.</p><p>               He had to process what he was seeing. His claws began to shake, and his mind grew clearer than it had been in years.</p><p>               …For a single moment, he wondered if he should pray.</p><p>               But if his God let things like this happen, then he didn’t deserve to be called God, did he?</p><p>               Apostasy fueled his muscles, and he flew.</p><p>               The sky, which had been mostly clear and perfectly calm, quickly darkened. The air pressure changed as dark clouds gathered overhead. Thunder cracked, and the blonde noble raised his hand. The soldiers stopped, and Mars’s brother raised his head, opened his mouth, and roared a wordless roar.</p><p>               “WOE UNTO YOU, <em>HUMANS</em>!!” He bellowed so hard that every beast and fiend within the immediate vicinity immediately ran away.  He hovered in the sky, his flaming wings spreading their fire across the clouds and tinting them with a hellish orange. “We Kings of the World allow you to exist, and <em>how</em>—“the soldiers dared to point their spears at him. “HOW DO YOU REPAY US?” The soldiers lowered their weapons. This close, he could tell they were trembling.</p><p>               The blonde man simply looked up at the sky. “I wasn’t aware there was anything to repay.”</p><p>               His soldiers turned back, horror radiating from their bodies.</p><p>               Mars landed on the ground, and a spiderweb of fire spiraled out from where he touched the grass. Within seconds, the entire field was a nightmare, and the weak humans who were not attuned to fire began to cough. One vomited, and the essence of wind began to flicker weakly in his chest. But that did not matter to Mars. All would meet the same end soon. As he glared at the blonde man, he smelled it. The unmistakable scent of dragon blood—in a human form.</p><p>               This…was a descendant of that man. Of that one who he had heard the tales of. Of the one who had made his brothers weak and ineffectual. A descendant of that one who told humans that they could <em>try</em> to offer him gifts. He never accepted them, and after burning down a crowd once they stopped coming. But there was no mistake.</p><p>               He was one of <em>them.</em></p><p>               This realization made Mars burn even hotter, and some of the soldiers began to cry, rooted in their place by fear. “You are gifted—<em>blessed</em> with the power to assume our forms. And you DO THIS?!” The flame dragon roared back, but Mars heard nothing. It was so mindless, so utterly, inconceivably lost. It was simply a collection of mana made flesh, controlled by the <em>heretic</em> on its shoulder. The ground cracked under his feet slightly. “You spit on nature with every step you make him walk!!”</p><p>               The blonde man twirled his golden hair once, twice. Then he looked at his nails—and then back at Mars. “Oh, my apologies. I didn’t realize you were done.”</p><p>               “<em>Do you wish to die?”</em> The question left his mouth like hot black tar.</p><p>               “Oh, sure I do. Life is disgusting.” A twisted smile tore through the man’s handsome features. “But until that moment, I’m going to dominate.” His dirty shoes  trampled the shoulder of Mars’s brother as he stomped on the dragon. “You call this an abomination—but I call this <em>the future!</em> Behold, you sniveling lizard! I’ve made your friend here stronger, faster, and more <em>deadly </em>than he ever was before! I’ve pushed him into a seat of power that he would have <em>never</em> reached alone! Surely even a <em>demon</em> like you must appreciate that?”</p><p>               Mars…did not know what to say.</p><p>               He couldn’t look away from the twitching arms of his brother. From the way his jaw hung, the way hot drool dripped and burned the ground.</p><p>               He made eye contact, but felt nothing.</p><p>               He pulsed his mana repeatedly, but felt no real response.</p><p>               It was as though he were being ignored, even though he kept calling.</p><p>               If he were younger,  perhaps he would’ve vomited.</p><p>               But no…</p><p>               …He was a child no longer.</p><p>               “Well, it’s not like I <em>care</em> what you think. Men!!” The blonde prince snapped his fingers, and his soldiers froze in fear at the sound. “Ready yourselves. We kill a <em>dragon</em> today.”</p><p>               The soldiers did not move.</p><p>               “…You seem to be a poor commander.” Mars spat.</p><p>               “And <em>you</em> know nothing of my men.” He snapped his fingers again, pulsing out a signal of mana with the snap of skin.</p><p>               A shiver went through all the soldiers. All 33 of them. They began to shake. Even the one who had been overwhelmed by Mars’s mana burst was reacting. The dragon who had been called Blazewyrm stared as those soldiers began to exude a pungent odor, as a red cloud began to emerge from their bodies as they groaned.</p><p>               A shiver went up Mars’s spine and he cackled. “They’re sweating mana and blood!” He cried, a sick smile on his face. “They’re sweating blood, and it’s evaporating into a red cloud!” Mars couldn’t help it. He laughed a twisted laugh. There really was no God in this world, was there? “Oh, Illia. Are <em>these</em> your faithful servants?!” He mocked.</p><p>               “I worship <em>no one</em>.” The human man said. And that stopped Mars’s laughter cold.</p><p>               …At least this human had pluck.</p><p>               Mars slowly lowered his neck again, mana and power building as he readied himself to tear everything apart. <em>At the very least, I’ll free you from your torment, brother.</em> The man yelled a war cry, the twisted soldiers ran forward, and the lobotomized dragon ripped a cry form his throat before flying into the air.</p><p>               Mars quickly incinerated the weaklings, and clashed with his sibling.</p><p>               He wasn’t going to kill him. He couldn’t.</p><p>               He was already dead.</p><p>               ...&lt;&gt;...</p><p>               Mars breathed out one final plume of red flame.</p><p>               It was done.</p><p>               His brother’s ichor flowed down his claws, the body still hot—but utterly unable to function. Slowly, Mars took out the offensive steel cylinder that was pumping away at his brothers’ head. It continued to move like crazy. This was a machine—a thing with no soul that moved without purpose save for the limited instructions inscribed into it by an engineer. No soul. No dreams. No future. But so, so deadly. As it pumped without meaning, it splattered some ichor onto his face. Under normal circumstances, the ichor of dragons is golden in color and shines like a jewel—but in this hellscape of a battlefield, the golden blood looked inky black.</p><p>               He crushed it in his palm, and the human man screamed, betrayed by his attunements.</p><p>               Mars turned his head. He looked nothing like how he had looked just an hour earlier. Gone was the composed and regal man with the shining medals. On the ground there was only a sweaty man with disheveled hair, a face full of soot, and blood leaking from his nose. All his medals had fallen off—melted into the ground. Before the prince could scurry away, he pushed his snout onto his tiny chest. Opening his mouth just a little bit (for he wanted to control the flames, wanted him to suffer), he spoke. “The dragon is no more.”</p><p>               This was the closest Mars had ever been to a human. He had never touched one before, looked into their eyes from this intimate of a distance.</p><p>               The rapturous joy in this man’s green eyes was not what he expected.</p><p>               “Wonderful!! Absolutely wonderful!!” He sounded as though he were at the peak of satisfaction, but this was a battlefield. An entrance into hell. Was this what all humans were like? Was the whole of the race of man this twisted? The blonde prince grabbed at Mars’s jaw, and even though he had stupid stubby human fingers, Mars felt as though tiny claws were digging their way into his scales. He was petrified. “More!! Show me MORE!!”</p><p>               Mars could not speak.</p><p>               “That was the <em>single most</em> exciting moment of my life! Nothing else compares! If a man were to experience only this and die right after, then he’d live a life fulfilled!!” The insanity in those green eyes captivated Mars. How curious that a man could be so close to death, yet so full of words.</p><p>               It was the opposite for Mars, after all. He was hurt—badly hurt at that—yet no monologue sprung from his lips.</p><p>               He tried, anyway. “Have you lost your mind?”</p><p>               “My <em>mind?!</em>” The human gripped Mars’s jaw so hard that the dragon thought he would pierce his scales. A distinct iron scent filled his nose. “My mind is the clearest it’s ever been! I’ve arrived at the apex! At the fulcrum of my life! All thanks to you and your <em>gorgeous</em> power!”</p><p>               Once, Mars had thought that he had arrived at that Point.</p><p>               That he had reached the apex of his possibility as a living being.</p><p>               In fact, Mars had met his God, and had heard his name from blessed lips.</p><p>               Yet this human man, who surely had never met the witch who stole Elysium away, who had to borrow the power of his kind to assert his ‘divine right’ as king—<em>he</em> was now saying that he had arrived.</p><p>               Was he insane?</p><p>               Clearly.</p><p>               But Mars was <em>captivated </em>by this little bird’s frantic swan song. It was strange music to his ears, and the more the man yelled and clung to him, the more a weird shiver rolled across his body. “I can give you <em>more</em>.” The man’s green eyes were now deep. Deep with the darkness of ambition, with a lust for glory. “I can make you <em>better</em> than you are now.”</p><p>               In that darkness, Mars saw a deep abyss, and his heart trembled before he saw himself in a glowing volcano.</p><p>               Before him…stood himself. At the foot of a pool of lava, smiling.</p><p>               <em>This was how I looked to her back then?</em></p><p>               <em>That was the face I’ve been making this whole time?</em></p><p>‘What are you talking about?” Mars’ voice was as quiet as a leaf blowing in the wind.</p><p>               But there were no leaves here in this hell. Only the crazed lust of a man who trembled with the ecstasy of forbidden possibility. “I know how to read people. Humans, Sylvans, Qilin—even dragons. It doesn’t matter. The heart is all the same!” He giggled. “And you—you’re like <em>me.”</em> Am I like this man? Am I like him? “<em>You want power</em>.” His seductive words coiled around Mars like basilisks, tying him in place as he sank deeper and deeper into that dark green nowhere. “You’re the Blazewyrm, Mars. I’ve heard the tales of the fire dragon who burns everything without regard. Who challenges all who dare cross his path and who leaves no one alive. The legends sadly do not do you enough justice. “ He was now caressing him, caressing his jaw with his tiny human hands. “You are much more <em>magnificent</em> than the most outlandish stories paint you to be…!”</p><p>               Mars turned his head—carrying the human with him across the dirt as he clung to him—and looked back at his dead brother. A fire dragon torn to shreds, black ichor spilling everywhere, slowly returning to Mana. The word gruesome barely did it justice. “…You speak of doing <em>that</em> to me?”</p><p>               “YES!!” The prince gushed out. Nothing mattered to him at this moment. Not his country, not his dead men. Not even the possibility of a future on the throne (didn’t all princes seek that status?) All Mars saw in his eyes as he looked back at him was <em>now.</em> This prince was utterly entranced by it, by this moment where his heart beat weakly in his chest and his arms shook from the way his hands so desperately clung to Mars’s face. “With alchemy, humans and dragons can rise above their limited powers! We can make nature our mistress! We can rule the world in ways we’ve never dreamed!”</p><p>               A drop of the dragon’s black ichor slid down Mars’s face, down his cheek. “But you enslaved him…” He felt numb, a call he had forgotten years ago licking at his edges. “…You, you took his freedom away and made him into that <em>thing</em>—”</p><p>               A cackle.</p><p>               A disgustingly amused cackle bubbled from the prince’s throat. “You—You thought he was my <em>slave?!</em>” The prince couldn’t help himself. He let go, manic laughter making him grab his stomach. He was at his wit’s end, near death, and completely free from every societal restriction. Mars bore witness to it all. The way he tried to stand, the way \ he fell, the sound his knee made when it hit the ground, and the way he reached up anyways to grab the dragon again. “That dragon <em>consented</em> to the power I offered him.” Mars saw those hands, the red on those fingers, and felt the threat of that green void call to him once more. “He knew of my designs and he sought power!” A slight calm. “Admittedly, my alchemical system isn’t perfect yet. You see the amount of cylinders on his body?” One of them clanked as the area that it stabbed into dissipated. “That’s me overcompensating and not being able to naturally connect with his core. It’s rather embarrassing, to be honest.”</p><p>               What a <em>wonder</em>. This man had been laughing, wrapped up in the throes of insanity just a moment prior—and now he was calmly describing his machinations with the cold precision of a military scientist. But no matter what tone he adopted, Mars saw it. The regality of the way he <em>was</em>. Even when he was clinging to his face and <em>gushing</em>, this prince was every bit of royal blood. He simply exuded power.</p><p>               Mars swallowed. “He…He wanted to—”</p><p>               “—to be what he always wanted to be.”</p><p>               Mars had held a dream once. He had wanted to become as a god, to unseat one of the Great Five and take dominion over fire. Then he saw that he needed strength to reach that goal, and sought to perfect himself so that he would one day have a fight so honorable and so praise-worthy that she would allow him to hold her body in his arms as she abdicated her throne to him.</p><p>               And…somewhere along that line, his dreams melted away. Like the smoke of a fire spirals out into the air and becomes the air itself, untouchable and invisible.</p><p>               “This world is <em>ruled</em> by those who would <em>fear</em> ingenuity and progress. This world is ruled by those who want to keep things stuck in the <em>now</em>. Haven’t you ever wanted things to <em>change</em>? To be <em>different?</em>” And here, Mars realized his mistake. This man wasn’t bathing in the present moment. <em>No</em>. He was eating it. He was using it to rise above the canopy, above the cave, and look out into the horizon. What this man wanted was no the present, but an unknowable future past the rays of the sun. “With this, I can make it happen. I can make you and I so powerful that the world will have no choice but to move <em>forward</em> towards the future.”</p><p>               “Towards the sun?” The question didn’t come from his mind.</p><p>               “Past that blasted thing. Past all of this. We will do things the idiots that live today can’t even <em>conceive</em> of!!” His twisted smile was back again, and he spread out his bleeding hands. “Enter into a contract with me—let us be Pactbound! And I can show you all that you’ve ever wanted to know about yourself!”</p><p>               “I can be—”</p><p>               “—the <em>strongest</em>.”</p><p>               With that word, Mars lowered his head, and let those bleeding hands cradle his jaw. That chill returned and he relished the way it moved up his spine.</p><p>               He was <em>free.</em></p><p> </p><p>               ...&lt;&gt;...</p><p> </p><p>               Mars…</p><p>               Mars looked at the stars.</p><p>               Balls of gas light-years away, combusting with trillions of kilojoules of energy.</p><p>               He let out a plume of golden fire.</p><p>               He was now strong, and the same heat that burned above also burned inside his chest.</p><p>               “I…am….here.”</p><p>               ...&lt;&gt;...</p><p> </p><p>               His Prince—Leonidas—fell in battle. Fell after many years of conquering villages and towns, of desecrating the land and filling his ears with praise and terror alike from those around them. His Prince fell, and he trembled as his younger brother—a boy with a heart like a lantern in the dark—went to his side with tears in his eyes.</p><p>               He trembled inside of Leonidas’s heart as he saw the girl whom he had hired out of the Abbey pick him up. He trembled as they talked, as they reminisced, as they shared words and struggled to get to Prince Euden’s Halidom.</p><p>               And he trembled when, inside their final dream together, Leonidas stroked his chin and said the words:</p><p>               <em>“I need you to help my brother.”</em></p><p>This young man, the seventh scion of Alberia, was nothing like Leonidas. He was like the sand which is smoothed by a retreating wave. His green eyes were pools of light, and his face was built to smile kind smiles. His hands were strong but were not the hands of a tyrant. In fact, they were at a glance the hands of someone who did all kinds of work, both high and humble. Where Leonidas was cold, Euden was warm. Where he was calculating, Euden was empathetic. Where Leonidas was brash and proud, Euden asked for the opinions of others.</p><p>               Leonidas was a wolf who tore prey limb from limb and wore their blood in glory.</p><p>               But Euden was a wolf who fed his cubs.</p><p>               And Mars, who had likened himself as a god of war and death, now felt so incredibly alone as his pact was transferred from a tired but still daring Leonidas to a weepy, desperate Euden.</p><p>               Why can’t I stay with you?</p><p>               <em>“Because Euden needs help.”</em></p><p>But <em>you</em> need me!</p><p>               <em>“Don’t underestimate the King, Mars. I was fine before you , I will be fine after.”</em></p><p>I cannot help this child. He smells different from you! He thinks of different things!</p><p>               <em>“Then perhaps you can teach him that he needs to hunker down.” A laugh. “Or maybe he’ll twist you like he twists everyone else.” A strange look. “Like he’s twisted me.”</em></p><p>This is not what I agreed to!!</p><p>               <em>“You agreed to have your body alchemically enhanced. I agreed to use that power as much as I was able. Now I am no longer able—nor terribly willing. It’s as simple as that.”</em></p><p>If you are sabotaged by your brother again, you will die!</p><p>               <em>“Fool. We all die. That is the gamble a king makes every day.”</em></p><p>Don’t do this to me! Don’t you dare!</p><p>               <em>“Take good care of my baby brother. I’m trusting you.” A stern look. A kingly image, his king. “Not one hair on his head, Mars. Not ONE hair.”</em></p><p>I don’t want to leave you!</p><p>               <em>Gentle, treacherous hands on his jaw. “I don’t want to leave you either.”</em></p><p>….And after a moment in the void where he shook with the terror being alone, truly alone, Mars saw lights.</p><p>               Many lights.</p><p>               Dancing lights, getting nearer and nearer, curious.</p><p>               This prince was taking the legend of Alberius and one-upping it by a considerable degree.</p><p>               He shrouded himself in darkness, for he did not want anyone to look at him. Not the child-wyrms. Not the young drakes. Not the elder dragons. Not—</p><p>               The presence of the Great Five dispelled the darkness around him.</p><p>               But then they left.</p><p>               Giving him his privacy. Ordering all other lights to give him sufficient space as well.</p><p>               Mars was left confused, terrified, curled up in a ball.</p><p>...&lt;&gt;...</p><p>               For seven days, he existed in isolation—both in the physical plane, and in Euden’s heart.</p><p>               In the seventh day, while he was dozing and his mind was left weak, the young Prince of New Alberia appeared before him. He smiled softly, nervously, his hands knit at his front. “H-Hello, Mars.”</p><p>               Mars looked at him, and the terror in his heart compelled him to shroud himself in darkness until the boy left.</p><p>               He felt shame for seven more days after that.</p><p>               Another knock. This time the Prince, accompanied by two burly men and a woman. One dressed in purple armor (with fire in his shadowy eyes), and the other pulsing with the essence of wind and water. The woman herself was a curious case, blessed by Light, Water and Shadow. An older girl, yet pulsing with potential. But they were all so bright that Mars could not look at them, even though they radiated power, which he loved more than everything—“Um, Mars? It’s me, Euden.”</p><p>Mars could not hide his eyes. But he hid the rest of his body. He did not answer.</p><p>               “Boss, don’t think this guy’s gonna wanna talk much.” The man with the water and wind mana said. His heart flared in a tempered, practiced way. He would risk psychological damage to protect his prince.</p><p>               “But it’s been 14 days! He hasn’t eaten anything. I don’t even know where to find him physically.” The prince said, airing his worry out loud. He hadn’t eaten, sure—but how did this boy, whom he had been Pactbound with less than a month, know that? Was his sense of his dragons that finely tuned? Did he have such a natural affinity? The thought of such a breach of privacy (which he only ever forgave Leonidas for) terrified him, and fire unconsciously unfurled from his nostrils.</p><p>               True to his heart, the large man with the medium-dark skin stepped forward and banished the flames. He was unhurt (but only because Mars hadn’t been planning to hurt him. If he had wanted to, the man would be catatonic).  The other man with the dark armor crossed his arms. “I would advise you to control your flames a little more carefully, dragon.” He didn’t say more,  but Mars could feel it. He could feel memories of hunting, of slaying. This man liked to hunt, and if dragons weren’t so highly respected in society, he’d see him as nothing more than prey. The idea that one single mercenary would think himself so equal to Mars that he could <em>hunt</em> him made the bile of indignation rise in his throat, and Mars burned a little brighter, trying to keep his darkness as close as possible.</p><p>               “Ok, how about you don’t talk, and we don’t scare this dude any further, alright?” The sentinel turned to the armored hunter. He was displeased. Euden turned to try to say something to quell the incoming fight.</p><p>               “Everyone.” A hand. It was the girl, the older girl with the years in her eyes and the magic pulsing within. A child of the woods. She let out a single mote of light and let it move forward. “Calm down.” The mote of light pierced through the darkness and lit Mars’s body as it traveled across it.</p><p>               He would’ve smashed it to pieces, if it were not for the Prince’s shocked expression.</p><p>               The Pact was so solid already, so their emotions were starting to link. Mars saw himself a little. A wretched beast with machines sticking out of his body, hunger gnawing at every corner.</p><p>               He growled out of lament, and his cocoon of darkness blazed for a single instant before he wrapped himself up in even thicker sheets. The last thing he heard before falling under his slumbering spell was the mercenaries cursing at each other.</p><p>               The last thing he saw was Euden’s miserable gaze.</p><p>               He slept for a day—the third knock on his mind was rougher than all the rest.</p><p>               It was not Euden.</p><p>               It was <em>her</em>.</p><p>               She stood as a human, beautiful and unfamiliar to Mars. But he knew it was her. The Flamewyrm. Mars flew deeper into the abyss to flee from her, making her shrink more and more in the distance—</p><p>               But he bumped into her, into the wall of her soul.</p><p>               He turned, and seeing her stern face, fled again.</p><p>               And bumped into her again.</p><p>               They repeated this process a total of seven times before he bumped into a form that was much larger than a human’s.</p><p>               And seeing her in her draconic shape—feeling those eyes, smelling that familiar scent—Mars was completely disarmed, and lost his footing.</p><p>               He started to fall into the bottomless abyss of the human mind.</p><p>               But he was caught by her claw.</p><p>               He trembled, a fire began to coil itself and grow in his mouth. But then it died with a whimper.</p><p>               “How <em>pitiful</em> you are.” There they were. The words he never wanted to hear. The words he had nightmares about ever since Leonidas showed him his design for the newly improved alchemic system V.2.0. The dulling of his mind—of his waking mind—due to the alchemic enhancement, it helped with the nightmares….until it didn’t. He had supposed it was a fair price to pay, seeing her face and hearing her admonishments in his sleep, as it energized the energy needed for the alchemical boosts. So he had endured it, sure and comforted by the fact that he would never see her again.</p><p>               Until he <em>had</em> met her again, until he had been made to fire at her—</p><p>               “You <em>willingly</em> shot your mana burst at me.” The Flamewyrm corrected. She squinted her eyes hard. “The humans and my darling may not see it, but you’re <em>leaking</em> your <em>wretched</em> thoughts all over the place. This mindscape has been a complete <em>swamp</em> for half a month because YOU can’t get it together!” She pushed herself into his face, even as he tried to move back. She had dominion here. She always had dominion. “Don’t you care that my darling’s contracted with <em>little</em> <em>ones</em>?! With drakes just learning how to channel their power? We have a<em> hatchling</em> in here, for goodness’ sakes!!”</p><p>               ….Mars had never thought much during his rampages.</p><p>               But he had always known in the back of his head that ‘killing humans’ included killing infants.</p><p>               Back then, that was fine. Humans were the enemy. And with Leonidas, he would only kill those he ordered.</p><p>               But…but if humans and dragons were working together…</p><p>               “I…” His voice tore itself out of his throat. It was raspy. Weak. Was he dying? The thought didn’t scare him as much as he thought it might. “…I didn’t know there were…infants here.” The Flamewyrm pushed her head onto his and held him close. She was <em>livid, </em>and he shrank away from her. “I swear! I didn’t! I—I only thought there might be older children, but not—”</p><p>               “It’s basically the same thing. None of them are ready to handle this kind of <em>psychic torment</em>.” Her claws dug into his shoulders, and the alchemical system began to roar to life. But this was the world of the mind, and as one of the Great Five, she willed him into submission and turned it off. She could not tear it off of him (as much as she would surely like), but this…this was essentially the same. “For the past fifteen days I’ve done <em>nothing</em> but <em>handle</em> and <em>trap </em>your <em>bullshit</em>. I have not SLEPT or FOUGHT because your <em>mind</em> is so <em>full</em> of this—this <em>trash</em> that I have to spend ALL my resources keeping it from leaking into everyone else.”</p><p>               He gaped, felt like a child, like the idiot he was all those years ago. “So you <em>know</em>?”</p><p>               <em>“I know everything.</em>”</p><p>               Mars woke up. He frantically lifted his neck-</p><p>               And was promptly smashed back into the ground by a claw. It was the claw of the Flamewyrm. She had somehow tracked him down, and had torn him from his slumber, from his hiding place.</p><p>               “Are you…. kill me?” He choked out. In this form his speech was dampened. He had traded mental acuity for magical strength, and the shame of it all bore down all him all at once. Yes. Death is fitting for one like him. He took up fangs and claws and fire breath. He knew, from even before meeting her, that those who deal in war must be prepared to die by its hand. “Do it…Proceed.”</p><p>               “…What I want is none of your concern, Mars.” The claw withdrew, and seven dragonfruits—all ripe and thick and <em>rich</em>—dropped in front of him. “But what our master wants <em>is</em> of your concern.”</p><p>               “…Do not… want.”</p><p>               “<em>Eat.”</em></p><p><em>               “</em>Why must…?”</p><p>               “Because you’re a WARRIOR!!”</p><p>               Empty words. Empty titles. “I am….not.” He hung his head. “I am….bad.”</p><p>               A wet sound.</p><p>               One dragonfruit was split in two.</p><p>               The Flamewyrm, the ruler of his magic, his element—in essence, his queen—was offering him one half. The mere thought of sharing a meal with her, what it might represent in their culture, it was almost too much to bear. “You are.” She pushed the fruit into his trembling hands. He squished it without meaning to. Frustration crossed her face, and she split the half into a quarter. “Open your mouth.”</p><p>               “N-No.”</p><p>               “<em>Mars.</em>”</p><p>               “I am <em>bad</em>…” He cried.</p><p>               She turned to leave, and he felt like the scum of the earth.</p><p>               …But then she was next to him. She was sitting next to him.  “I…lived my life, all alone, for many years. Many, many, many years. I joined Alberius because I thought he could make humanity change their ways, and he did. But after that, I was alone again.”</p><p>               Was this…was this happening? Was this a dream? Was this a punishment? “Alone…sad. Alone hurt very much.” Why was he being honest?</p><p>               Simple. He had nothing to lose.</p><p>               “But now, I have a family.”</p><p>               “Mas…ter?”</p><p>               “A <em>family</em>.” She repeated. The word was somehow weird, even though it should’ve been normal. He tried to say it. He failed. He did not try again. “I’ve met incredible people, all who I consider to be amazing friends. I’ve met up with all my comrades of old, and I’ve met new ones. I—” She bit her lip. “I have someone I <em>love</em> now!” She shook his shoulder. “I thought I was beyond such a thing! That it was mere infatuation! That I was above the ways of the world—but now I’m sure. Even if he doesn’t choose me, even if he doesn’t choose anyone, I’ll always love him! I <em>feel</em> that now!” Did her eyes blaze with this much intensity before, during their first and only match? Did they sparkle with conviction back then, the way they were doing now? "That's why I fight now! I fight for love!"</p><p>               “….Love?”</p><p>               What is love? What does it smell like? Feel like?</p><p>               What motivates love? Was love compatible with war? Did love not extinguish it?</p><p>               Did he…love anyone?</p><p>               <em>I don't want to leave you, either.</em></p><p>Mars slowly, slowly, moved his trembling hands down. He flexed his claws, and the Flamewyrm gently put the quarter fruit on his hands. He concentrated very hard not to crush it.</p><p>               Slowly, he brought it to his jaw. But he did not eat it. “I want… to die.” He choked out.</p><p>               “Believe me, I <em>know</em>.” She spat. But then she took a breath, letting out fire. Her fire was gorgeous. Clean. So, so clean. “…I know you regret it, even if you enjoy it. I know you feel shame because you think I’ll hate you.”</p><p>               “Do….you….hate….?” The question made him freeze.</p><p>               “That doesn’t <em>matter</em>. I don’t decide your worth. In fact, no one does! Except for you…” She pressed.</p><p>               “I…bad…I am…so bad. I  am….not….” hungry? Thirsty? “…good.”</p><p>               “You are not.” She agreed again. “But Euden needs you. We <em>all</em> do. If you starve to death, he won’t take it well.” She seemed like she wanted to say something else but shut her mouth. “And I won’t have the young ones, nor the old ones, deal with your disappearing thoughts. I can’t trust myself to hold those back.”</p><p>               …The young ones…</p><p>               …They would…cry. A lot. Just like back then.</p><p>               “…not worthy…no glory…” He tried to give her the fruit.</p><p>               “Maybe not.” She pushed it back into his claws. “But that Leonidas said you were.”</p><p>               She stared at him as tears spilled from his eyes, as he turned and started to eat. After the third bite of the fruit—<em>good, good, full of love, earths’ love, love</em>—she began to eat her piece too. They ate in silence. There came a few moments where Mars thought she was going to cry as well. But she did not. She only sat with him as he ate. And when the seven fruits ran out, an old man with a beard entered and gave them more. He pulsed with a wind so powerful that Mars knew he was staring at the Windwyrm, who barely looked back as he left the cave.</p><p>               They ate. Mars recovered. They talked. He cried again.</p><p>               Until daybreak came.</p><p>               The two dragons exited the cave. Watched the sunrise.</p><p>               “I…am sorry.” He breathed. It was so much easier to talk now that he was fed, it was almost stupid.</p><p>               “I know.” The Flamewyrm said. “But now you have to pick yourself back up. For everyone’s sake. For <em>Leonidas’s</em> sake.”</p><p>               He liked hearing Leonidas’s name from whoever spoke it, be it peasants, guards, soldiers, nobles, or even his siblings. Even now it made him stand a little taller. “….”</p><p>               “Let’s do an introduction here, so you can practice. I assume you’ll have a lot of those happening in the next few days.” She stretched out her claw. “My name is Brunhilda.”</p><p>               “Brun…hilda…”</p><p>               That was her name.</p><p>               That was the Flamewyrm’s name.</p><p>               He shook claws with her slowly, remembering how to do it. He repeated her name over and over, slowly, so that he would never forget it. “Brunhilda…Brunhilda….”</p><p>               He was thankful that she let him practice so much.</p>
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